


Finding Common Ground

by Minxie



Series: Coming Together [1]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-12
Updated: 2010-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/pseuds/Minxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tommy has enough, Adam is late to the party, and Twitter explodes over the skies of Australia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Common Ground

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** mentions of Tommy/OCs  
>  **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fiction using names and faces associated with actual trufax people. I do not know these people in any way, shape, or form outside of what they show the public. Which, IMO, is a very sucky thing. Just sayin'.  
>  **AN:** Part one of a two part idea. Yeah, so. Huge love to Red and Karen for the prereads!

The passport issue is a convenient excuse. The fact that fans make the assumption on their own is just gravy. No statements are necessary, no lies need to be told. Just a quick couple of tweets and an appearance at Monte's gig – which, frankly, Tommy is more than happy to do – and the rest of the time is his.

It's more than enough time for him to get blindingly, shitfaced drunk and lick his wounds in private. Go back to the tour with a totally different, more appropriate mindset.

He sobers up before the flight, puts his game face on and heads back to work. And that is exactly what the tour has become. A gig. A well paying gig, but nothing more, nothing less.

Tommy just has to keep reminding himself of that and it will all be okay.

At the hotel he hugs Sasha and Brooke, bumps fists with Terrance and Taylor, slaps Isaac on the back, and gives Adam a smirk and salutes. And then he claims the jetlag that really isn't there and escapes to his room. He begs off going out, begs off watching Metalocalypse with Isaac. Instead he orders a burger from room service and buys a bottle from the bar.

It's about all his new game face can take after eighteen hours of flight time.

The first concert is the hardest. It's putting everything he feels for Adam on display and then forcing it back behind the barriers in his mind. All in an hour and fifteen minutes with thousands of their closest fans watching.

There are times Tommy hates the rock and roll lifestyle.

The second night rolls smoother. Possibly because Tommy goes on stage with a good buzz started and whiskey in his glass. By the time the concert closes he's happy and horny and drunk enough to mask the sting of watching Adam leave with a tall slender drag queen wrapped around his waist.

He agrees to bar hopping with Isaac and Monte. Flirts with a piece of pretty who knows about five words in English and gives head like she was born to it.

The tension in his shoulders and neck uncoils and for the first time he thinks he might actually be able to pull this off.

By the time they reach Manila, Tommy is pretty sure he has everything tucked into the proper compartments again. Adam gets a box all his own, one that Tommy drags out for sound checks and rehearsals and shows and then promptly shoves away again as soon as he can.

If the man escapes the confines and invades Tommy's dreams, Tommy has another beer before hitting the stage and finds the first piece of willing pussy when he walks off it.

He's reworking himself into someone new, someone he doesn't even recognize. Someone he's not sure he even likes. And he's doing it because of the most unapologetic, in-your-face, take-me-as-I-am man he's ever met.

The irony of it all is not lost on Tommy. Not at all.

Tommy expects the Malaysia concert to be a cake walk. Because the government has _rules_ and apparently GlamNation breaks every fucking one of them. And while the reason totally sucks ass, Tommy's all for having a night off from the looks and the touches and the kisses. A night to just rock on the bass and feel the music.

Except that he finds the show to be harder to get through. Adam is trying to give the fans a show but he's stifled, stiff in his own skin, performing his own show. That pisses Tommy off. More than anything.

If they've found a way to work together even after Adam politely – very fucking politely – rejected Tommy without it affecting what they give the fans, some uptight government stifling Adam is way more than he can accept.

The show can't end soon enough and Tommy thinks that, really, this is one time that speeding to the airport is completely justified. He says as much to Adam.

It's the first time he's said anything to Adam outside the gig in eleven days.

New Zealand proves to be a land mine destination for Tommy. Two days off leaves too much time to think. And to run into Adam. Something that seems to be happening every other hour or two. Finally he just kind of loses it and snaps, tells Adam to back the fuck off because, hey, he got the not-gonna-happen memo in Singapore and, really, all he's asked for in return is distance.

The look in Adam's eyes – the wide, shocked, kicked puppy thing that Adam does so well – follows Tommy for the remaining time off and onto the stage at Trusts Stadium. He doesn't know if he's thankful or pissed when Adam comes out and drapes himself all over Tommy like nothing is out of the ordinary.

He settles for thankful and moves on. It is, after all, just a gig.

No concert on his birthday means Tommy and the gang can totally go out and get shitfaced in Melbourne. When Adam bows out because of an interview, saying he'll catch up with them later if he can, Tommy just assumes that Adam is backing off and using so-called work necessities to give Tommy space.

He stops thinking about it twenty minutes into the night when a very hot dirty-blond catches his eye. Stops thinking about Adam all together when, ten minutes later, the eye candy ups the ante and dares Tommy closer with a look.

He leaves Isaac to explain the fact that, despite everything Adam has preached to the press, Tommy's straight is rather bendy, and has been since high school. It's just not something he flaunts because so far there hasn't been a long-term, let's make this a relationship reason to do so. Not to mention, Tommy so believes that who he fucks isn't anyone's business unless he's fucking them.

If anyone wonders why Adam and Tommy aren't together, Tommy misses it. He's too busy letting the pretty boy seduce him with his accent. The broad shoulders don't hurt either.

There's drinking and flirting and, after Tommy has one drink enough, there's dancing. When Scott's arms wrap around Tommy and his lips dance over the sensitive chords of Tommy's neck and he whispers that really too-hot-for-words accent in Tommy's ear, Tommy wonders why the fuck he hasn't looked for cock in so long, not since that beefy farmboy in Iowa.

 _Adam._ The reason ghosts through Tommy's head. He gives it a mental push, shoves Adam back into his box, and, eyes hooded, leads the local talent out of the club.

And right into Adam.

Words are exchanged, petty little hisses of conversation that Scott watches from a few feet away until Tommy glares and steps right into Adam's space, hurling the one thing Adam can't counter: the truth. He reminds Adam that it was _Adam_ who turned Tommy down, not the other way around. And really, being his boss doesn't give Adam the right to cock block. Thanks so very fucking much. Tommy turns away from Adam without another word.

Tommy gives Scott the name of his hotel, twines their fingers together as they drive the few blocks and then take the elevator up to Tommy's floor. He blows off Scott's question about the argument, then blows Scott. After Tommy fucks Scott – twice, because, _goddamn_ , he'd forgotten how good it feels – they curl around each other and Tommy snuggles in with a sigh.

He's missed this just as much as the fucking. Missed the heavy weight of being blanketed by someone bigger as he drifts off to sleep.

They share breakfast in bed, laughing quietly as Scott calls out sick from work and Tommy calls in a guest pass from Lane. Then they spend until sound check mapping each other with teeth and tongues and making plans for the few hours Tommy has after the concert.

Tommy is loose-limbed and working a natural high through the pre-show set up and run through. He does his makeup with a lazy smile, and smirks when Sutan cackles gleefully and snaps a towel at his ass. He steps out on stage with a beer in his hand and attitude in his stride, because Scott is right at the barrier with pure sin shining in his eyes.

Melbourne has become his favorite place ever.

Tommy's not really surprised when Adam wraps his hand around his throat during _Fever_ , but the whispered _I'm sorry._ has him working to keep the confusion off his face and his fingers coaxing the bass line into life. By the end of the intermission he's sure he imagined the comment entirely.

When Adam comes in behind him during intros, Tommy melts into him, drops his head back to Adam's shoulders, but keeps his eyes locked on Scott. Because, yeah, Tommy knows how to play a gig but he also knows who'll be fucking him before he flies out.

The concert ends with their raunchiest _20th Century Boy_ to date – Adam writhing on the floor between Tommy and Monte, head thrown back and his dick hard enough to cut glass – and Tommy is riding the adrenaline high as he rushes through a shower and kisses Lane's cheek with a promise to be at the airport in three hours. He waves off Adam when he tries to ask Tommy about signing, throws a quip about that being for the headliner over his shoulder and pushes out a side entrance and straight into Scott's car.

Tommy doesn't run into paps until he's totally fucked out with an obvious hickey on his neck. He cuts a glance at Scott, murmurs something about maybe they should backtrack to a restaurant and let Tommy call a cab. It'll at least keep Scott's picture out of the papers and off the blog sites.

Scott shrugs and leaves the call to Tommy, makes some noise about being able to say no comment just as well as the next guy. Smiling, Tommy tells Scott to park the fucking car and walk him to the gate. They rush through the crowd of paps and fans, hands locked together and share an easy press of lips at the gate. Tommy starts wondering if maybe between the Hawaii and Europe dates Melbourne is a good place to be.

Tommy tweets a shout out to Melbourne, sends a text to Scott, and totally ignores the weight of Adam's stare and the snort of amusement from Terrance. He does smile though when Sasha slaps him on the back and ribs him about hooking up with a vampire, because, dude, the mark on his neck is _awesome_.

The internet explodes with pictures of Tommy and Scott and speculation about Tommy's bendy, the when and how and whether or not Adam is to blame.

Tommy takes it all in silently. Spends time on messenger with Scott and time on Skype with his mom and then finally he tweets that, hey, Adam is a mighty man but really, the spaghetti was cooked long before they met.

The @replies amuse him all the way to Hawaii.

Their two concerts in Hawaii are good times, the shows are kick ass awesome and Tommy gets to see his mom. And, Jesus, fuck, he's seriously _missed_ his mom.

He takes her out to dinner, spends a day touring some fucking pineapple factory, and then finds the balls to actually explain that, yeah, he's been into boys since the tenth grade and the nights spent camping with the centerfielder of Burbank High's baseball team.

She takes it surprisingly well.

Tommy stands on a beach in Hawaii and watches the sun rise over the incoming tide. He wonders if maybe hooking up with Scott was a mistake because all it did was make what he was missing all the more real. And, for fuck's sake, it's not like they'll actually ever be more than friends. Too many miles between them, too many differences in their lives.

Then a shadow falls over him and he looks up to find Adam standing next to him looking pensive and sheepish and contrite all at once. They murmur strained hellos and then Adam sighs, blurts out a list of shit like _I'm sorry._ and _I didn't believe you._ and _Fucking, hell, Tommy Joe, I've been halfway in love with you from the beginning._

The confession pisses Tommy off, makes him want to slap Adam, to walk away from him, from the band, from every fucking reminder that this has turned into the biggest clusterfuck ever. He looks at Adam and shakes his head. Because, yeah, despite it all, he still wants Adam. Wants him in that forever kind of way.

He starts to walk away, to leave before this dissolves into an argument, then he stops and looks over his shoulder, eyes locking with Adam, and says, "Earn it. If that's what you really feel, what you really want, you're gonna have to earn it now."

 

* end *


End file.
